


Los Angeles

by anemptymargin



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Fluff, Kink Meme, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-17
Updated: 2011-03-17
Packaged: 2017-10-17 01:30:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/171513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anemptymargin/pseuds/anemptymargin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur Shappey is a known master of few things, one of these things happens to be the uncanny ability to nap without regards to place or time. The only elements necessary for the experience seem to be a lack of better things to do, lenient supervision, and a vaguely appropriate surface to do so – of course, such requirements are loose at best.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Los Angeles

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the (LJ)cabinpres-fic prompt asking for [Arthur sleeping](http://cabinpres-fic.livejournal.com/728.html?thread=351960#t351960). No beta, all mistakes are mine.

“Arthur, can you even hear me?” Martin sighed over the intercom, frustrated. He’d called three times with no response whatsoever. “What could he possibly be doing back there? It’s been half an hour.”

“Well, he is a single adult male - locked in a flying metal cupboard…”

“Do us both a favor and don’t finish that thought, Douglas.” Martin stood up and donned his cap, determined to find out what was actually happening. “You have control.”

“Thank you, Martin. I will do my best to keep the pointy end up.”

Briefly, Martin considered rethinking his decision as he moved towards the back of the craft.

This time, the steward was curled up across the third row seats – his feet tucked up underneath him and arms folded under his head. He snored softly, face locked in the soft sort of dreamy sleep smile he always managed.

“Arthur.” Martin sighed quietly, watching him a long moment until he rocked his shoulders deeper into the cushions – facing against the back of the opposite row. He hated to wake him, it had been an awfully long flight with still another four hours to go before landing in Los Angeles only to turn around and go from there to Glasgow exactly twelve hours later per regulation on end-to-end cargo trips. Arthur echoed Martin’s sigh in his sleep, licking his lips.

He looked so boyish in his sleep; mouth halfway opened as though his thumb had been in it only moments before… it wouldn’t be much of a stretch some days. Not a child of course, that would be awful, but a younger man full of innocence. Soon enough that innocence would be gone, replaced with the bundle of annoyance he liked to call MJN’s Arthur Shappey – complete with a game of charades that will be the perfectly horrific cap on an otherwise tedious flight.

Of course, several hours after landing and check and an uneventful taxi ride to an awful motel, he would drape his arm over Martin’s shoulder and loudly whisper; “Can I room with you today, Skip?” in a tone that told anyone within earshot he was anything but innocent. After a long walk down an unfamiliar street from the steakhouse Douglas had chosen for their supper they’d enjoy the mid-afternoon heat a few moments on the balcony overlooking the car park until Arthur yawned and rubbed his eyes – pretending he wasn’t sleepy at all.

That moment was his Arthur, the person he’d come to know all too well between flights who was only moderately annoying and much less innocent. His Arthur would follow him into their room, and then make a nest of blankets and spare pillows on the floor only to end up falling asleep on the bed watching some horrible programme about cosmetic surgery gone awry. Then, and only then, Martin would relax against him, letting his arm stretch across Arthur’s chest to feel the rise and fall of his breathing. He would run his fingers over the soft curves of Arthur’s face, finding the lines of his smile in the dim light coming from under the drapes. If the moment swept him up, as it increasingly had, he would gently press a kiss to the open and waiting mouth.

Still hours away from their destination, Arthur rolled onto his back and let out a soft sleepy murmur. It was entirely too much for a long flight, for a string of long flights and dry nights and quite frankly a mind fuzzy and devoid of coffee, sleep, and the simplest of pleasures.

Martin stepped forward and removed his cap, looking back at the flight deck to ensure they were not under Douglas’ watchful eye. “Oh, Arthur.” He sighed, bending at the knees. “So hopeless.” With only a moment of hesitation, he kissed the younger man’s forehead – and then against his lips.

“Mmm… Martin.” Arthur muttered, miles away still tucked well into his nap.

“Enjoy your rest.” Martin smiled and donned his cap once more before finding his way back to the galley to warm the kettle.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work of fictional parody in no way intended to infringe upon the rights of any individual or corporate entity. Any and all characters or celebrity personae belong to their rightful owners. Absolutely no money has or will be gained from this work. Please do not publicly link, repost or redistribute without letting me know first.


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